Dreaming I'm the one mending the nets now

I'm standing in a shed on a harbor that's been off the charts for twenty years, mending a net that isn't mine, and the twine keeps coming up greasy and warm like it remembers where it's been. Someone old is watching me from the door but when I look up it's just my own shadow thrown long by a lamp I didn't light. I've spent years just recording these places, and now I'm part of the inventory, and the strangest part is how relieved I feel about it.